Blaine blamed it on the alcohol
by Syaoran-Lover
Summary: BIOTA AU. Blaine doesn't remember a thing until he sees Kurt sleeping next to him... and then he starts noticing simple things, like the lack of any clothing.
1. My fault

WARNINGs:

This is my first Glee project. Let me know what needs working on.

Also, this story is about Klaine (Kurt & Blaine), which means BOYxBOY relationships. You were warned.

It was supposed to be a oneshot, but it will probably become a little bigger (seriously, just a _little_, because I don't have the time to work on a huge story without driving myself nuts). Considering I like smut (though I don't really appreciate the blunt & descriptive stuff), rating just _might_ go up later (keyword: _might_).

Lastly, no one is going to make me say it, because it's too depressing… but, hey, if this is uploaded on a FANFICTION website, the math isn't so hard. (LOL)

(NOT SO) QUICK EXPLANATION:

So it's been like, what? Two months since "Blame it on the alcohol" aired (Glee TV series season 2, episode 14), and I'm still not over it, even though the show is back next week with the last six episodes of the season (and FINALLY starting canon Klaine! YES!).

I really like the Rachel-Kurt friendship idea, but I can't get over the fact that she tried to get Blaine with her. What gets me irked, though, is not exactly that, because Rachel was, after all, _drunk_ – even if Blaine wasn't the second time (ANOTHER reason why I HATE alcohol). What got me really mad at her character was that last sequence where she spouts at Kurt: "Who cares about you? **I** may be getting a boyfriend out of this…"

I might not ever be able to live it down, and that is the reason why canon Hummelberry friendship doesn't sound convincing to me anymore – at least not until she apologizes, or something.

So, yeah, I came up with a million different endings for that episode, or, at least, sequences where Blaine returns from that toilet, or how they make up (it was a rather nasty argument, and then, next thing we know, they're happily running around again… go figure) etc. What appealed to me the most was this.

**BLAINE BLAMED IT ON THE ALCOHOL**

Chapter 1: My fault

Ow!

My head hurts violently!

I can't remember how I got here, but I sure know where "here" is. The sheets are unmistakable, their impregnated smell of cloves and cedar make me comfortable in a way that rarely happens. Despite the fact that I don't have much difficulties to befriend or talk to people, that does certainly not mean that I feel at ease with anyone.

Or course, this isn't the case with Kurt, as he has managed to charm his way into my good sides, since the first time he used that timid voice to stop me down the main staircase of Dalton Academy. Even if he tried not to show it, by being outright and talkative, the shy undertones of his voice and the nervousness he inadvertedly exuded clearly ratted out his "new student" line. Even that obvious lie, however, wasn't enough to make me the least bit aware around him.

It could have just been Kurt's antics, or his lightly-colored eyes filled with uncertainty, or maybe it was the soft feeling of his hands when I practically dragged the "new kid" through Dalton halls, or maybe all of these. However, that sweet and yet spicy smell definitely played some sort of role in this quickly established friendship of ours.

It was that same smell that was currently engulfing my senses, with an intensity it never had before. It should have felt invasive, perhaps even nauseating, to have someone else's smell come so close and strong. What it did, however, was engulf me comfortably, lulling me further, almost back to sleep. Curiosity was what compelled me to open my eyes, to ascertain what exactly was going around me.

And then I nearly went into shock, because, despite the fact that I somehow knew I was on a bed, and that Kurt's smell was acutely present, my alcohol-affected mind had not been able to connect these two pieces of information. When I opened my eyes, it took some time to process the image my eyes were reflecting into understandable data.

Right there, in front of me, was Kurt, resting on his side, facing me. His skin is still pristine in the early hours of morning, lips slightly parted as he breathed peacefully, the rhythm stable. A serene look dominated his face, substituting the scrutiny ever-present when he is conscious, as it rested on the soft pillows. All of it screamed vulnerability, but that wasn't what got me so fluttered.

What was bothering me most, at that moment, was something I couldn't stop looking at, and my mind was conjecturing millions of scenarios to justify it, none of it presenting a suitable explanation. Kurt's shoulder was exposed by the duvet that was not reaching it, and I couldn't find myself able to stop staring at its milky surface. It wasn't the skin itself that had me nervous, it was the meaning behind it showing that was driving me crazy.

I had seen his pajamas before, and I knew that he slept with clothes that covered his limbs completely. The fact that there was nothing there this time was setting alarms in my head, and, the more I thought about it, the more my headache got worse. That, in turn, made me increasingly aware of the alcohol still present in my body, reminding me then that there was an even larger quantity in my brain the previous night.

Oh, shit.

I did NOT – or, at least, I'm hoping I didn't – do what I'm thinking I did, and, by "I", I really do mean "me", because I know Kurt's in love with me. How would he be able to say "no" if I came onto him? Oh, I know he would try to resist it – I've no doubt about that – but I also know I get quite… diligent when there's even the tiniest bit of alcohol in my system. Forget the fact that I like him – a lot – but as a friend; I didn't think that alone would be enough for me to… pursue him.

Really, I am such a jerk. What am I to do now? What do I say?

"Sorry, Kurt. I was totally drunk." Well, that would be great for me, but I just know he'll make that really, really sad face, which I can already imagine vividly, and then he'll try to pretend it didn't mean anything. I know that wouldn't be true either, because he is just so compassionate about every little thing, so something this big would definitely not be belittled by him. Finally, to top it all off, depending on what expression I'd make, he'd try to make me – me! – feel better.

It's one of the things I like about him so much: this duality between his bitchy and selfish side, against his sweet and caring side, the latter being one he doesn't show often, unless it's to someone really close. I like watching these two, though I know they're just part of one very interesting guy.

Bottom line, I like Kurt, and I want him in my life, though not undressed in my bed every morning, but simply by my side, with me. I could never live with myself if I hurt him, and that is exactly what would happen if I blow him off now… Especially after I already told him "no", because I didn't want to ruin our friendship. Hell, no matter how he reacts, this would definitely shake our bond, one way or another. Even if he does try to pretend that doing… this… means nothing, I know he'd never be able to be normal around me again.

I'd never be able to look at those beautiful eyes without feeling guilty again.

With Kurt's eyelids closed as they are now, I have some sort of preview of what that would be like, and I find myself dreading it already. Even if I am not particularly attracted to him – though I had not given it any thought at all, until that fateful Valentine's week – it seems I am not completely immune to him either.

And then, as if I somehow called him, Kurt stirs a little, and the blanket which had revealed only that one creamy shoulder travels down, uncovering half of his upper body, pooling at his at the curve of his hips. My suspicions are now confirmed, as that part of him is devoid of any clothing, though I can't help but to stare at it, marveled by the absolute silky appearance that still manages to maintain a boyish aspect.

I am possessed by the desire to touch it, to confirm if it feels as soft as it looks. Considering I probably spent the whole night doing just that, maybe it is not so strange that I want to repeat the experience, at least where touching his skin is concerned.

That still didn't come out right, no pun intended.

Well, as some level of logic has apparently returned, I decide it is time to ascertain _my_ current state of dressing – or lack thereof – in order to gather more clues as to what really happened last night. A part of me is already certain, but another part – a bigger part – is desperate to find some other explanation.

I hesitate for a few more minutes, as I try to think of all the reasons why I shouldn't do that right now – amongst which, I confess, I included snuggling against the beckoning warmth Kurt is radiating. However, pushing my fears aside, I raise the covers just a bit.

My surprised gasp escapes not because I verify my own state of undress, but because I see my friend's. It hadn't dawned on me, until then, that he was close enough for me to run this risk. For some reason, most probably alcohol-related, I had completely ignored this fact, thus my unwarranted astonishment. The worst of it is that I can't bring myself to stop looking: though I knew Kurt had fair-colored skin, it had never occurred to me that it ran all the way his toes.

It was pretty obvious, I realize, but it's just one of those facts that we don't stop to acknowledge, we just incorporate them, but when we're put face-to-face with it, we realize it's a new thought.

There it was, however, right in front of me, and I couldn't bring myself to cover the truth again. My eyes, for whatever reason, will not unglue themselves from Kurt's form, particularly his hips, that discreet little lump of his pelvis that protrudes just a little more as he lies sideways. Luckily, he remains blissfully oblivious to my rather intensive staring.

During the long minutes I am frozen there, fearing he'd wake up, but unable to stop looking, I panic myself into moving again, finally covering ourselves once more, and thus diminishing the effect alabaster skin had cast on me. All the while, my thoughts keep replaying scenes of our encounters, through a new light, but not one of them reflects the previous night's activities. The more moments I remember, the more I think the label "jerk" is deserved.

The scenes my mind displays are pictured backwards, as if Kurt and I had switched our character roles in a play. Except, the more "Kurt" talked to countertenor me, the more my heartbeat accelerated, for happy or sad reasons. As I watch him in my own skin, I pick up a lot of subtleties I had not noticed before, little moments that I now know made my friend's heart contract ever so painfully, especially during a kiss with Rachel Berry, right in front of me – practically in my face – or rather, Kurt's.

This little bit of memory comes to me suddenly, and it is the only thing I can remember from last night, so far. Funny that kissing New Direction's main singer is the only memory I can recall at the moment, despite the fact that it was Kurt who woke up beside me.

Which only proves, again, how much of a jerk I've been – regardless of the fact that I was drunk. I can't bring myself to stop thinking it, and I become more frustrated at myself as I do.

Just how badly _have_ I hurt him? Would last night be the ultimate stab? Would this be the last mistake he'd allow me, before cutting me off? After all, there is only so much a person can take, and, as I'm becoming increasingly aware, Kurt's _quota_ is way overdue.

Suddenly, he stirs again. Despite my quietness, this time my friend does open his eyes. First, Kurt seems confused, as if he can't quite understand what I am doing in front of him when he wakes up. In seconds, his expression changes from hazy to shocked, obviously aware of what happened.

At least _he_ wasn't drunk.

We look at each other for almost a minute, and Kurt tries countless times to say something, his mouth forming many shapes, always stopping himself before actually uttering any syllable at all. On the other hand, I don't even try it, already conscious that there is nothing I can say… Or so I thought, until Kurt finally managed to pronounce one simple word.

"Sorry," he says, voice lower than a whisper, immersed in embarrassment. His fingers grip the covers as he involuntarily tries to hide all of his body with the blankets, halfway up his chin.

That one small _verbette_ pulled at my heart. That voice, those eyes, all of him screamed sincerity at me. What really hurt, though, was the fact that, I could tell, he was not asking forgiveness for last night... I know without a doubt that it was my insistence that had torn at him. No, he was saying "sorry for not being able to resist", or, in other wording, "I'm sorry I'm in love with you".

Such a realization hit me as if someone threw giant rocks at my head.

I don't have to love Kurt; just because he loves me, it doesn't mean that I have to reciprocate those feelings, and I know that as sure as I know my pop music. However, that most certainly did not mean that my friend had to be sorry for loving anyone, including me.

No. From my perspective, anyone who found himself (or herself, you never know) the object of the affections of someone as amazing as Kurt should be proud. I, for one, feel honored, even if I do not return it.

Raising my upper body, causing the duvet to fall to my lap, my hand reached out on its own volition, touching the tips of his fingers that were still just barely visible. He flinches, but does not move away, nor does he relax. Those grayish eyes search mine, scared, but brave enough to hear whatever I have to say, as if it were his penitence.

I had intended to tell him not to feel sorry, or that he should have more faith in himself… or, possibly, say "sorry" myself, for not being lucky enough to match his feelings.

What I say, though, surprises us both.

"Go out with me."

**TBC**

This is the first time I write a story as I post it. Normally, I only start posting once I finish writing the whole thing. However, I wanted this up before Glee resumed its second season, so I decided to test some adrenaline. (EDIT: REVISED.)

I'm not so sure how far I'm going to take this little idea, but I do intend to have at least one more chapter up.

For now, logging out!

KaiLi (Syaoran-Lover)


	2. My proposal

AN: Oh, the "Born this way" episode was so very much inspiring (yes, I know those words are redundant… but I'm going for emphasis at the moment)! I got tackled by so many ideas that, apparently this will have more than two chapters. Not sure how many, but, so far, at least five.

I blame "GLee", entirely.

This story is mine, but it is still under _fanfiction_. Honestly, Math isn't so hard!

Chapter 2: My proposal

"_Go out with me."_

The words were out of my mouth before I could even think of opening it. It seemed like a horrific idea, yet some part of me thought it was genius. I do wish my brain would make up its mind, as it tends to make moments like this a complete mess.

Kurt is looking at me as if three feet have just sprouted off my nose, with six toes each. His eyes are screaming "What the hell?", and I can't help but to feel that they have a point. Anyone would think what he's probably thinking right now: there can only be two reasons for such an invitation, and it's either some sort of affection, or pity. God help me if I were asking him out for the latter.

I can see the emotions that cross his face as he is once again at a loss for words. His eyebrows strain a bit when Kurt initially wants to rebuke me with some sort of offensive remark, then his eyes look sideways, taking a deep breath when he decides not to, and, finally, not able to look at me, he casts those gray pools to the mattress. "You don't have to do that," is all he whispers to me, voice so strained, I'm sure Kurt is holding back tears.

"Yes, I do," comes my automatic reply. This time I am not surprised. The last thing I want to do is to hurt him.

A questioning glance is directed towards me with a thoughtful expression. "Why?"

Why? Well, I have no idea. All I know is I just made a big mistake, and I don't want to hurt my best friend… not now, by refusing him again, nor anywhere in the future, when he would be bound to find out I do not return his feelings. In other words, I don't have the option of being honest anymore, which is not something I am comfortable with… or that I am good at.

After a few seconds of considering, I try sincerity, simply because he'll know if I don't, and that would only make things worse.

"Because I owe you that much, Kurt. I'm not going to lie. You _know_ I don't feel that way for you, but I might if we give this a shot." I try to convince him.

Maybe I should have risked lying after all, I think, when his face furrows immediately into an angry scowl.

"I'd rather not. We won't do anything we already don't, so what's the difference?" he asks me, the stingy tone in his voice is very clear.

I can honestly say I hadn't thought about it. Somehow, the idea of going on a date seemed to be the most productive, as if suddenly I would be able to look at him like that. However, Kurt has a point. He is completely correct when he says we would do nothing diverse.

If the problem is variability, though, perhaps I can do that right here, right now. Perhaps, if I kiss him now, I will feel some sort of the spark I must have felt last night, but, at least, I would be decidedly less drunk this time.

I make up my mind, and I bring my face closer to his before I can get second thoughts. I see the alarm rise up to his eyes before I close mine, and I can feel my breath mingle with his… but I don't feel his lips. Actually, what I _do_ feel is a big push on my chest, followed by some pain as I hit the ground, escaping the comfortable warmth of the smooth covers. Not long after, a door closes loudly, and I realize Kurt has just locked himself in his bathroom.

Obviously, the kissing idea was out… and I am left with a puzzled brain. I thought he would be happy. I _know_ Kurt likes me, that he cares for me in ways I can only hope to return someday. So isn't he supposed to be happy that I tried to kiss him? I have always fantasized how joyful it would be to be kissed by the person I liked, and I imagined it would be the same for everyone else, or, at least, for Kurt.

So why did I get pushed away? Does he not like me anymore? Is he traumatized by last night? Did I do something to him on this bed that was irksome? Oh, Lord. Maybe I have some fetish even I am unaware of… I can only hope it won't ruin whatever we might still have.

One thing is certain, I'm not ingesting alcohol anytime soon, if ever.

Right now, though, there's not much I can do, so, as I sit down on the floor, messed up between sheets. My eyes lurk around, trying to find my clothes, and I hope I manage to get in them before anyone comes up to this awkward situation.

It doesn't take much to find my red blouse on top of the square-shaped puffs, carefully folded. Apparently Kurt managed to remove it before setting me to bed. As I look around a little more, it becomes obvious that I wasn't as careful, a fact clearly proved by my other pieces of clothing scattered everywhere, with his in equally different places. I can't help but stifle a gasp as I find my underwear on top of his vanity. How it got there, I'm hoping I don't manage to remember.

I immediately get up to fetch it, and my body is reflected by the looking glass. Only now I see several red markings on it, especially on my shoulders, my arms and, as I turn around, on the upper part of my back too. Yet more evidence of how insistent I must have been.

Sighing, I grab my boxers and put it back on, searching for the rest of my clothes as I do so, and hurrying to get dressed. When I am done, I think for a minute, hesitating, before knocking on the bathroom door.

"Kurt?" I call, voice a little low, but still audible, but there is no answer. I try again, this time a little louder, but still trying to avoid the attention of his family, who may or may not know that I am here.

This time, he does answer, though not so pleasantly. "Blaine, please, just go!" He says, but I can tell he is straining his voice again.

"Kurt, come on, let's talk about this." I plead, but he'll have none of it.

"Just… Blaine, please, get some water and go home. We can talk about this some other time… just not now."

There is silence after he says that, because I don't know what to say. I have no will to force anything else on him, but I do not want to part like this either. Reluctantly, however, I decide on the former, judging it to be far less damaging, and taking refuge in the knowledge that my friend is still somewhat worried for me.

"See you later." I whisper, hoping to hear a reply.

A muffled "yeah" is all that reaches my ears before I head out.

~!GLEE!~

Talking to Kurt at school wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. I thought about waiting for him at the parking lot or at the front gate, but, afraid he would feel somewhat stalked, I decided it would be best to just let our meeting happen naturally. After all, we do have some classes together, so it wasn't so difficult.

The minute he walked in the room, I felt the air grow stale all around, the only exception being the sweet odor of Kurt's morning shampoo.

Unexpectedly, he came straight to me, greeting me good morning and sitting at the desk beside me. The only difference from any other day was that he was obviously trying to have as minimum eye contact with me as possible. He wasn't completely avoiding it, but he was not generally looking at me like he always did. Somehow, not having him do that bothered me.

He was not talking about last night either, in a clear attempt to just forget the whole thing… but, at least, we were _talking_, albeit a little awkwardly. The topics ranged from lessons, classes and teachers, to gossips, clothes, places we'd like to see and a lot of other things. I almost felt normality install itself back between is. Before we knew it, we were at the Lima Bean, getting our preferred coffee orders.

Just when I thought everything was going as usual, and that maybe I should forget everything if that's what Kurt wanted, my phone rang, and I fetched it from a pocket in my coat. Surprised at the name displayed, I answered the call.

"Hi, Rachel." I greet her, and, hearing what she has to say, the conversation soon ends. "Sure. Ok. See you then. Bye." I reply before hanging up. "Rachel just asked me out!"

I thought he would laugh at the idea, but, instead, Kurt looks at me strangely. "What?" I ask.

He gives me a scowl in return, hissing his retort. "You did _not_ just agree to go out with Rachel Berry, right here, in front of me."

I arch an eyebrow. "So, what's your problem with that? You rejected me, remember? I did ask you out first." I reply defensively, not understanding why he was getting irritated with me, when he was the one who refused to go on a date with me.

Kurt's features are overtaken by surprise, quickly overruled by barely contained anger. "You're gay, Blaine! If you have any doubts about that, Lord help me, I _will_ smack you!"

This time, I am the one surprised. I have never seen him get violent before, and I never even thought he could. However, it doesn't stop me from replying, my voice dripping with sarcasm I cannot hold back, "I'm trying to help you ignore what happened, OK? Since that is what you so obviously want. I'm moving on!"

"We never had anything for you to move on from!" Kurt quarrels back angrily, his eyes shining now.

"Exactly," the cold reply slips from my lips before I can reign it in. It is true, nonetheless, and I have yet to understand why he is suddenly so angry at me. Deciding I don't want to hear anymore, I get up and leave.

I have a date in two hours to get ready for.

**TBC**

AN: It doesn't matter that I got really mad at Rachel for this, I'm still using it to my advantage. I was actually going to do something entirely different, but a few ideas hit my head and I thought, hey, why not? XP

Was the chapter short? Yes, it was. Unfortunately, I got used to writing posts, not long chapters, so the way I structure a story is generally by short scenes... Hence the shortness.

Reviews are welcomed, even if you just want to point out mistakes.

Type ya next!


	3. His hell

AN: Before anyone complains or asks, yes, I am making all episodes after "Blame it on the alcohol" happen in the same week, up to "Born this way". They'll have a busy week, but it's not impossible. Since I'm only using the scenes that pertain to Klaine in some way, and twisting others, it shouldn't be that hard to digest. LOL

Chapter 3: His Hell

It's been three days since our fight, and three days since my _date_ with Rachel. I never meant to go out with her as a long-term thing, I was just happy to feel that somebody was interested in me, and wanted to give back something. Explaining that to her after an admittedly fun night at a _West Side Story _presentation wasn't so easy… Not that I could say something like that in so many words, but I wanted Rachel to understand that I wasn't – _couldn't_ – be interested in her like that.

And then, today, she came right up and kissed me for the whole of Lima Bean to see. I would have been angry with her, but then, when her lips unglued from mine, I spotted Kurt a little behind Rachel, and my heart sank. We hadn't talked since that fight, and by the way he was looking at us, it seemed he definitely wanted to keep it that way.

My frustration deepened when I noticed she was still looking at me expectantly, and, suddenly, I knew what to say. "Yup, I'm gay! One hundred percent gay! Thank you so much for clearing that up for me, Rachel!" I say, shooting Kurt a glance. The tiniest smile makes way on his face, but it is enough to give me some relief. It is short-lived, though, because next thing I know, he's walking out the door.

Rachel, on the other hand, is still looking at me expectantly.

"What?" I ask, my patience starting to run out. What more does she want me to say?

Her answer surprises me. "You're not going after him?"

One of my eyebrows rises involuntarily, and I can't help but ask, "Who?"

She rolls her eyes and frowns. This time, instead of answering, Rachel only shakes her head. With a somewhat friendly hand on my shoulder, she directs a look at me that screams pity, before she also leaves.

My eyes follow her figure, while all I can think is, "What hell?"

!GLEE!

"We should perform something a little less sweet, and a little more sexy for Regionals!" one of my fellow friends suggests at the Warblers meeting, the following day.

Much to my dismay, Kurt has sat as far away from me as possible, and he is sitting strangely immobile, but quiet as usual. This is the first Warblers rehearsal since the night we – _I_ – got drunk, and nobody has questioned our distance or Kurt's even deeper lack of participation. It doesn't matter that he's been here for months, apparently he has never felt at ease in this group.

I do notice that the suggestion makes him wince, though it is almost unrecognizable. He shifts uncomfortably and tries to seem nonchalant, but fails miserably. The look Kurt sports is quite near decreeing how much he wants to be anywhere, but here. It's weird, to see him look so out of place – ever since I met him, no matter how shy he was, Kurt always seemed to be completely aware of his surroundings, and sure that he belonged wherever he was.

"We are a boys acapella group! Why not?" Someone else asks. I am barely registering the conversations, let alone who is saying what. My focus is entirely directed at my friend (at least, I hope we are still that). "Besides, it's time we change the dynamics a little, don't you think?"

"We have a week to get this decided, practiced and perfected. It's too late to change songs now!" Someone else retorts.

Somewhere in the background, I hear Wes' gavel hit its block, in an attempt to calm the discussion that has risen. Kurt is still not looking at me, and I am getting increasingly frustrated at that. My attention is only reverted back to the others when I hear my name being pronounced, and, tearing my gaze away from Kurt, I try to identify who said it.

Suddenly, all eyes are on me, except a pair of pale grayish blue ones. Unaware, I remain silent, and David directs me a question. "So, do you think can or can't do _Animal_, Blaine?"

"_Animal_?" I ask stupidly, not entirely sure which song they are referring to, but suddenly remember it. "Oh, the one by Neon Trees?"

A nod is my answer, and everyone waits expectantly as I mentally play the song. A smile curves at my lips. "I can, but I'd like to request something." When no one says anything, I continue. "I'd like to have Kurt sing it with me."

Hushed whispers and smiles spread across the room, and Kurt's head shoots up to, finally, look at me, his finely shaped eyebrows arched impossibly high.

"Why Kurt, Blaine?" Thad asks, and all eyes in the room now reflect me in them.

Why, indeed? An honest answer would say, "Because I can't get him to speak to me any other way", but, as that's not something I can bring up without reaching back to the roots of the problem, my reply comes out entirely different. "Because I think his high voice will make a nice contrast when I lower mine, and an _Animal_ duet will probably sound even better."

A lot of groans are heard, and I'm not quite sure why people react that way, but I am just happy that I'll get the chance to speak to Kurt again. I am, at this point, absolutely sorry for whatever it is I did to him by accepting to go out with Rachel. It was not worth losing him.

A vote is announced by the council, and, almost unanimously, the idea is passed. Soon enough, we are rehearsing an _impromptu_ rendition of the song, and, as I thought, Kurt's voice molds extremely well in it. It's not until we start choreographing that I notice his movements are somewhat restricted. No one else notices, and I decide to question him later.

Once rehearsals are over, two hours later, as we file out of the Warblers room, I pull him to a shadowy corner, before he gets the chance to run away from me again. In whispers, I try to start the conversation. "What's wrong with you?"

"Excuse me?" he asks.

"Something is wrong with you today. Despite the fact that you obviously don't want to be around me anymore, I still care for you, and I noticed that you were acting weird at practice today. So, what's wrong?" I explain, as calmly as I can, but my heart pounding in my ears is not helping much.

He raises an eyebrow, but says nothing.

"Kurt!" I insist, and almost fall back when he tries to push past me. Luckily I manage to maintain my balance and my hold on his arm, thus stopping his escape. "Kurt, what's going on?"

When his eyes meet mine for a second time, I am taken aback by the intensity of emotion they hold. "I can't do this!" He all but screams, and I'm afraid he might have caught the attention of others walking down the hall.

I am, however, more worried about Kurt, so I immediately press him further for more details. "What do you mean?"

He looks at me with a distressed, defenseless expression, tears pooling at his eyes, but that he refuses to let fall. "I can't do this with you! It's too painful!"

I am startled by this revelation and automatically curse, startling both him and myself. As softly as I can, I ask him the question I've been dreading the answer to. "Did I… hurt you, that night? Are you still hurting? Is that why you seemed so intent in not moving during practice today? You seemed fine during other classes."

Kurt blushes deeply and averts his eyes to the floor. His silence is answer enough for me, and it is all I can do not to scream. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you! I don't think…"

"It's not that." He interrupts me, voice soft. "I mean, it kinda does still hurt, but it's not that bad…" he trails off.

I'm scared of hearing anything further, but this whole mess is my fault. I _have_ to know.

"I… I didn't know a thing about sex until that night, and now… I can't help but think about it whenever I sit down… or whenever I go in my room."

A small smile spreads across my face. Did that mean what I think it did? That it wasn't all that painful for him, and that he might have even enjoyed it? Of course he would keep thinking about it, and, of course, he would avoid me.

"You're just enticed, Kurt." I try to reassure him. "It's completely natural. Don't worry, the time will come when you find someone who will make you completely happy in his arms."

He shoots a vicious look when I say this, and I know I have said something to upset him again. Lately, it seems it is all I can do. I rush out an apology as quick as I can. "Sorry, I never meant to hurt you, and I am so sorry for the Rachel thing too. I didn't…"

"You don't get it." He interrupts me once more. "Do you really not remember what _I feel_ for you? You practically forced yourself on me! It might not have meant anything for you, but it meant hell for me!"

My eyebrows scrunch. "Hell?" is all I can ask, afraid to hear one of the many answers my mind effectively produces with that word.

He inspires loudly. "Yes, Blaine. Hell."

Still dreading, but needing to know, I push further. "Why?"

"Really?" he raises his voice again, not loud enough for someone else to hear, but loud enough for my ears. "How would you feel if you liked someone who doesn't return those feelings, and that person forces you to sleep with him, only to say it right to your face that you don't mean a thing… and then have him go out on a date with one of your friends, right in front of your face!"

"Hey, I asked you out, remember?" I retort indignantly. "And I never said I don't…"

"It wouldn't mean a thing if you won't reciprocate my feelings! And now you want me to sing and perform a sexy song with you? Just how much do you want to hurt me?" Kurt is breathing raggedly now, not because of air insufficiency specifically, but due to all the emotions he was leaking. "Please," he pleaded, "don't hurt me anymore."

And as he cries against my shoulder, the sound is muffled by my uniform. Hidden by the shadows, I can only hold him tight as he bails everything out.

**TBC**

AN: That covered "Sexy", next chapter covers Regionals ("Original Song"). It should be short, because there's not much I want to cover from it, so I might pair it up with Night of Neglect, which is also short.

Please drop a review, whether this is bad or good.

Type ya' next!


	4. Our support

AN: Been some time, yes. I'm actually updating sooner than I expected because I couldn't keep from writing – lest I go insane. LOL

Still don't own it. DAMN!

Chapter 4: Our support

My heart broke when Kurt cried against my chest, after practicing _Animal_, and, despite my reluctance, I realized going forward with it would only make things worse between us. So, against my own wishes, I moved to back out on the duet idea, alleging the singers had agreed it hadn't come out so well.

Much to our surprise, however, there was no backup motion for a change of the performers, as everyone had already agreed and the Warblers seemed intent on maintaining such a formation. Besides, we all had to admit, showcasing Kurt's voice might give us an equal base of competition with New Directions, who always performed numbers that had different voices, and, consequently, different rings to them. It would give the Warblers more variety, and anything legal that could help us win was more than appreciated.

However, at Kurt's hard insistence, the Council agreed to set up a vote for other songs, and the countertenor immediately volunteered "Candles", by _Hey Monday_. When we got around to testing it, most of the other boys seemed to enjoy how it sounded, and so, when all the songs were put to vote, it was Kurt's suggestion and _Pink_'s"Raise Your Glass" that took the podium.

I could only imagine what was going on in my friend's mind for that song to pop up.

~!GLEE!~

"Alright. What's wrong between the both of you?" Wes approaches me, his face contorted into a frown.

Close behind was David, who immediately complements him. "Did you get into a lovers' quarrel or something?"

Of course I know what they are talking about. How could I not? However, I don't want to talk about this with anyone else. It was a topic – a personal topic – between Kurt and I. Naturally, my reaction was, "What are you talking about?"

They both look at me like I was dumb… and, just maybe, I might actually agree with them.

"Blaine," Wes starts, sighing. "You're going to lose him if you keep this up."

"I don't really think our friendship can be ruptured because of song voting… and his choice _did_ win," I answer, absolutely sure they that they didn't know about the behind-the-scenes details.

"That's not what we're talking about." David answers immediately. "And don't play dumb with us. We _know_ there's something going to on between the two of you."

"The whole school knows, Anderson." Wes says, still holding that initial scowl.

This surprises me. All of Dalton knows about this fiasco? Were we that obvious, or did Kurt tell anybody? _I _certainly didn't.

Perhaps they see the surprise and confusion in my face, because Wes decides to put the cards clean on the table. "Everyone knows you two are dating."

"And everyone knows something went down, because the way you guys are acting weird towards each other – and, at times, towards anyone, for that matter – is plainly obvious." David finished.

At these words, I am even more surprised. So the whole school thought we were dating? No wonder Kurt also thought it before, like he told me a little before Valentine's Day.

"So," David continues, interrupting my thoughts, "what happened?"

I'm not sure I want to tell the truth to them, but there's one thing I have to clarify first. "It's not true. We've never dated. We're just friends... or, at least, I'm hoping we are still that." Their surprise shows on their faces, and I can't help asking. "Did we really look like a couple to you?"

The Warblers Council President and Secretary look at each other, a hint of sheepishness showing, before they nod.

Wes is the first to elaborate, even without me having to ask it. "You guys were always together, always touching, always looking at each other, or going out just the two of you on weekends. There was some sort of invisible barrier between you two that kind of kept the others away, because if seemed as if you and Kurt were only interested in each other, and in absolutely nothing else."

"Besides," David went on, "Blaine, you're always singing a lot of your lines to Kurt during our performances. It seemed obvious…"

I nod, but say nothing else. The realization that maybe I _have_ been involuntarily playing with Kurt has finally dawned on my brain. I thought we were just really close friends, who happened to be gay, but not lovers. I might not see him in _that_ light, but I sure as hell wish I did.

"You know, regardless of that, you still haven't answered our question." David mentioned. "What went down between you guys?"

I think for a nearly half a minute, before answering. "We're having something of a fight because of that. I was stupid enough to get drunk, and then I did a few things I'm really regretting, and which really hurt Kurt."

"So, is that why you wanted to duet with him? To warm your way back into his heart, through singing? Because we all know he loves singing." Wes concludes. I am suddenly aware that this is why everyone seemed so disappointed when I asked our countertenor to sing it with me. They all probably thought I was going to make some sort of confession to make up with my supposed _boyfriend_.

My _boyfriend_… Kurt. The idea doesn't seem so horrid, in fact – it almost seems nice.

David looks pointedly at Wes and repeats the latter's opening words to this conversation. "You're going to lose him if you keep this up, Blaine."

Wes places his hand on my shoulder, before locking his eyes with mine. "Look, no one can tell you what to feel – hell, you can't do that yourself – but we can tell you what to see, what to look for. If you don't love him, or if you do, it doesn't matter, but make it clear once and for all, and act on your decision. You can't say 'no' and act like you guys are dating, and you can't say 'yes' and just act like always, because he'll know something's not right."

"We don't want to tell you what you should or what you shouldn't do, but we're telling you what you're doing right now… and it's not looking good." David comments.

"Tell me something I don't know," I mumble, but I know they're well-intentioned. It doesn't mean that I can't be confused about it. When did things get so complicated?

!GLEE!

I'm not sure how, but we ended up in McKinley a few days later, for a benefit performed by New Directions, to which no one except us showed up. Apparently something happened to all the people who were supposed to attend, because Kurt's friends were expecting a full house.

A little before we found out about that, the two of us were walking down the halls of his former school, in silence. I was trying to find a way to talk to him again, to get the conversation we needed to have running. The only reason I was here in the first place was because Kurt's stepbrother, Finn, had thought it would be a good idea for me to come with Kurt, so the latter wouldn't be lonely.

Either the football player didn't know that we weren't on the best of terms, or he was aware of it and thought this would help us patch up, and I wasn't too keen in losing this opportunity. "We really do have to talk, Kurt."

He looked at me almost tiredly, but nodded in a way that clearly meant he wanted this over with. Well, so did I. "I want us to get back to normal, but I know it's not going to be that easy if we don't sort out some things."

"Like what?" he asked, almost rhetorically.

"Like, that we are friends, _just_ friends, with really awkward circumstances going on between us. But… I want to get past them, Kurt. I don't think we should keep this up indefinitely. If we do, we'll be the only ones losing."

"So… you're saying, basically, _forget it_." he said, not looking at me.

I gulped, but I can't deny that, yes, that's what I'm saying. So I nodded, unable to confirm it verbally. Kurt didn't see it because he still wasn't looking, but my silence offered him the same answer.

He sighed, inhaling a large gulf of air, as if preparing for something really taxing. Soon after, though, he turned around and we finally stared into each other's eyes, after what feels like years. "I care about you, Blaine, and I'm sure you're not aware of just how much I do."

I gulped again, at this point. These were not good opening lines.

"So I can't honestly say I can do that. I can only try… and hope nothing else goes wrong."

I smiled, quite obviously relieved, and was about to take his hand, but refrained myself in time, remembering Wes' warning. This might be harder than I initially thought.

A few soundless seconds pass between us, and we can almost feel them growing slowly from uncomfortable to relaxing.

"So, maybe I should tour you through this place, as this might be the only chance we get to come to my old school without running into unwanted company." Kurt offers, a small smile playing on his lips... A smile that has never looked so beautiful to me before, I realize.

Gladly, I accept the offer and we spend the next half hour going through some of his favorite and not-so-favorite places, from the cafeteria, to some of his classrooms, like Home Ec. I am sure there is a reason why we don't pay a visit to the lockerrooms or the fields.

We reach the choir room, and I smile fondly as I notice the inside walls, covered with eggbox foam, and the chairs arranged in three different levels. The way Kurt looks almost longingly to it pulls at my heart, but I have no time to dwell on it, because a familiar voice interrupts us.

"What are you two doing here?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Kurt freeze, instant fear dominating his semblance before schooling his features and turning to confront Karofsky.

Every last ounce of me wants to knock the guy down and give him the beating of his life. I am sure no one has ever done that before, and maybe the shock would get him to stop going after my friend, even after practically expelling him single-handedly. Doing that, however, would probably only succeed in making him pursue Kurt further…and I want them as far apart as possible.

So, instead, I try to keep still as they exchange words, Karofsky spitting threats and Kurt giving each of them witty replies. After the third exchange, though, I notice the bigger guy's fingers curling, and, somehow, I see in his eyes that he's going to attack my friend, just seconds before he moves.

But I move faster. His fist comes relatively close to Kurt's face and the latter jumps a little, startled, though it does not make any contact, because I have pushed its owner back, forcefully. I'm still wishing I could hit his nose, but that would probably backfire in me getting arrested and him, not.

Karofsky looks back at me a little stunned, but soon recovers. He is just about to launch himself at me, when Kurt's words seem to stop him. "Really brave with your fists, but you're a coward when it comes to the truth."

"I am not a coward!" he replies weakly. It is obvious that he intended to yell that, but it comes out just barely above a whisper.

"Oh, and how do you intend to prove me wrong, Dave?" Kurt retorts. After a few seconds of silence, he continues. "Exactly."

I decide to step in, still keeping myself between them. "The three of us know what's going on, but you're the only one who keeps trying to hide from it. So who's the coward?"

Karofsky looks at us with so much rage, I am sure, he is going to kill us. However, he just turns over, letting out a frustrated groan, and walks away.

When the bigger guy turns the corner, I hear Kurt's breathing again, and, out of the corner of my eye, I see his shoulders sag a bit further.

As I face him, I realize how deeply this affects him, and how he is trying to fight it. Before I can control it, I palm one of his cheeks. "Are you alright?" I ask.

My friend doesn't utter a word, but he does nod. Seconds later, a black-haired girl – Santana – shows up, just in time to get a message that they weren't going to have a full house tonight.

Kurt and I decide to show our support and stay, cheering whenever we can as New Directions performed, and it felt like we had a private show for just us.

**TBC**

AN: Long wait. Lotsa stuff. Don't know when the next is up, but plan on second week of July.

So I didn't mash NoN and OS, but I didn't skip it either. It comes next – and I know that's not canon sequel, but I'm not writing canon, am I? XP

Thank you everyone for all your alerts and reviews and all.

I GOT FLAMED! And It was in French, but it I still understood it perfectly. "The charm and intelligence of a fish"… now that was new...


	5. His goodbye

AN: I am so sorry about the wait. I moved to the other side of the world, so I didn't have time to work on this… and then I didn't have internet. The good news is that, during the time that I didn't have any communication means (LOL), I had more free time, so I was able to script more chapters of this story.

Chapter 5: His goodbye

Maybe it was the New Directions performance from yesterday, but the air between us is much better than it had been at the beginning of the week. At the very least, we are actually talking, and, even more amazing, we are looking at each other while we do that. It hurts to think that we used to be so close all the time, without so much as a second thought to it before, and now we can barely see each other.

However, because of last night's development, our songs are definitely sounding better this morning. Somehow, "Candles" is coming out prettily and "Raise Your Glass" is definitely worth standing for. The council is really happy with the results so far, but is still pressuring the group into doing better. Honestly, they are really good in bringing out the best efforts from a big group of high school boys, which is saying something. If it weren't for the fact that Kurt is only talking to me when strictly necessary, things might have been labeled normal.

As it is, however, he is still acting a little recoiled, and, despite the fact that I can't blame him, the situation is really bothering me. It isn't exactly my fault that I can't reciprocate his feelings, and though it is hardly Kurt's either, it was really unfair that I was losing my best friend because of something I have no control over.

To make it worse, Regionals is this Saturday – aka, in three days – and the chemistry between us really isn't flowing so perfectly.

"Something is still visibly off, though it wasn't so bad as to fault everything completely." Wes says, as he schedules the last rehearsal for tomorrow afternoon, looking firmly at Kurt, but with a soft gaze.

But the countertenor never showed up the next day.

**~!Glee!~**

The last rehearsal before the real show was a disaster. When it became clear that Kurt wasn't going to come at all, despite the clear warning from the previous day, the Council was thrown in a state of panic. Though it had been a relatively short time since my friend had transferred to Dalton, we all knew him to be responsible enough not to skip on practice without prior warning.

It was unlike him to disappear like that, and none of the Warblers knew what had happened. Those who were also his classmates said he hadn't shown up for classes at all that day, but he hadn't called in sick either – or, at least, no teacher had mentioned it.

The group still tried to rehearse, but, without half of the duet, it was a little pointless to do "Candles", so we only practiced "Raise Your Glass". However, no one really had their head on what they were doing. About half an hour later, when the thunder outside called attention to the heavy raining that had started – which was crashing violently against the large glass panels of the windows in the Warblers Room – Jeff, Wes and I were especially distracted, making so many mistakes that, eventually, the Council was forced to cancel any further rehearsal. Despite that, most of us weren't so keen to do anything else, so, for a while, we just sat in the room, looking out the window or at each other.

Maybe it was the unsettling silence, but when someone finally decided to say something to break it, I found myself wishing he'd stayed silent.

"You know, we might be worried for nothing. Considering tomorrow's Regionals, and he was a member from our competition, this might have been one of those classic moves where they infiltrate, gain our trust and then completely leave us behind. Maybe he will never come back here as a student again."

There was only more silence after that. It was obvious in everyone's faces that none of us wanted to believe that – not even Trent, who was the one to voice the idea – but none of us could completely discard it either. I wanted to be able to, but when Kurt just disappeared without a trace, one day before the competition, I am ashamed to say I wasn't totally confident that he wouldn't leave us. Both the fact that I wanted to believe that I knew him better than that, and knowing that Karofsky was still a threat prevented me from assuming the worst.

At that precise moment, the noiseless room was suddenly defiled by a discrete sound that all of us knew well: a mobile phone was vibrating. A few more seconds and Wes picked up his, and euphorically answered. "Kurt!"

If the name alone didn't turn a little more than ten heads turn to him, maybe the uncharacteristic tone in his voice did. "What happened? Are you OK?"

As Kurt replies on the other end, I feel a strange pull tug me inside. Something is not right, and I can feel it.

"No, that's OK. Stay there. We can have an extra rehearsal tomorrow, as a warm-up for the competition. We'll need you here at two o'clock." The voice of the Council President sounded, before hanging up and turning back to a load of expectant teenage boys, whom he immediately fills in. "He had some sort of emergency this morning and couldn't leave before it started raining, but he's fine. He'll explain tomorrow after Regionals."

A collective sigh is heard throughout the room as most of the guys begin gathering their things, only to be interrupted by David.

"Hey, where are you going? Practice is still on." The Secretary says with a smile, which is met by some half-hearted groans, but no one objects.

This time, a rehearsal actually does take place. During the whole time, however, I can't help but to think, "Why didn't Kurt call me?"

**~!Glee!~**

The following afternoon, my friend shows up on time, as usual. He looks normal, and I am sure he is trying to seem so, but I can tell that something is up... something big. The strange looks he keeps throwing me, when he thinks I'm not looking, speak for themselves. I decide to question him later, though, because whatever it is that is going on, I am quite sure he is trying not to let it interfere with our performance.

Throughout the extra rehearsal, no one mentions anything about the suspicions that were raised the day before, and, apparently, no one else notices that Kurt isn't quite himself… Or, maybe, they are noticing, but are either lumping his current behavior with the strange one that we'd both been portraying since the alcohol fiasco, or are choosing no ignore it. Whatever the case, practice feels almost good, and no disaster strikes.

Most of us already have our timings and rhythms down. Nick sometimes steps out of the formation, and John once in a while forgets which role he is playing in some parts of the second song – which is understandable, since he is both a harmonizer and our only beatbox. Kurt and I already know our parts, and we both manage to sing rather nicely, especially if we take this week's continuous strings of disappointingly poor performances into account.

When the clock strikes five, the Council declares rehearsal over and we all head to the bus, some of us stopping for a drink on the way. Again, Kurt seems to stare at me differently as I drink from my bottle.

"Sorry, do you want some?" I offer, aware that thirst was not the reason he was looking, but unable to think of anything better to say.

He shakes his head. "No, thanks. I'm good. I've got some natural water in my bag. Honestly, I advise you not to drink cold water before a performance. It affects your voice, you know."

I nod. "I know. I just can't help it. I really like drinking cold water after more than an hour of singing. The feeling is good… But you are right, I shouldn't be drinking it this way."

"Of course I'm right. When have I not been?" he asks with his usual sarcastic tone, which is normally not directed at me, but, at the moment, I'm glad that it is. It feels almost nostalgic. It hasn't even been a week since he invited me to Rachel's party, since we were best friends and were able to talk anything to each other, but it feels like a few years have gone by in this short span of only a few days.

"Do you really want me to answer that, or was it a rhetorical question?" I reply, seriously trying to remember the few times when he wasn't. It is no easy task, and, mostly, what I can remember consists instead of times when he wasn't completely wrong, or when his opinion was overruled by others' in a voting situation.

"I'd dare you, actually, but I'm against wagering… or such childish behavior."

I smile, unsure if I'm relieved or disappointed… or offended. This mixture of feelings is the usual outcome of any argument with Kurt, no matter who is it is. I'm glad, though, because it means he is not treating anyone any different.

"Blaine?" he says, after a few moments of no response from me.

I know he wants to tell me something important as I look at him. Afraid that anything I say might discourage Kurt, I urge him to go on silently. He bites his lip uncertainly, but smiles back before he replies. "We're going to be late if we linger here any longer, and then Wes will be on our tails."

I repress the urge to frown before I answer. "Well, we wouldn't want that, would we?"

"Definitely not."

I grab his hand and pull him along as we run through the halls, vaguely aware of our first encounter as we roam those long and beautiful corridors.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a tear trailing down his pale cheek. By the time we reach the bus, however, it is gone.

I can only question myself if I imagined it there in the first place.

**~!Glee!~**

The ride to the auditorium is quite fun, as always. Technically, most of the Warblers don't really need to be taken by bus, but it has always been a tradition to do so, as it enhances the group's teamwork spirit while everyone engages in activities during the short trip. It takes a little over half an hour to get to one of Westerville's neighboring cities, where Regionals will be held this year.

No sooner do we disembark in front of the City Events Center, Wes, David and Thad are already leading us to the green room reserved for the Warblers. It is no big surprise that Kurt is looking around, probably in search of the New Directions crew, but there is no sign of them yet. In fact, the group only shows up halfway through Aural Intensity's performance, which was the third group or so. However, as we are the next ones up, Kurt does not have the chance to even greet them.

I notice, only now, that he seems a little nervous. Scratch that, he seems _really_ nervous: his hands are shaking and his face is a few tones paler. I have never seen Kurt Hummel nervous before a performance – anxious, maybe, but never nervous. I decide to confront him upfront. "Are you nervous?"

My friend shoots me a sideways glance, as if he is surprised that I knew, but smiles and responds anyway. "Please don't judge me. This is the first time I've had a solo in front of a competition audience. I have this nightmare that I'm going to forget the lyrics… I'm going to sing and nothing is gonna come out."

I try to stifle a small laughter at the thought that Kurt Hummel, who rehearses every role he gets day and night, may actually be able to forget something as basic as the lyrics. He can't, not even if he wanted to.

"OK, you can judge me." He says, maybe curious about the weird faces I know I must be making.

"I think it's adorable." I say before I can stop myself, although I quickly realize it is true. "I think you're adorable." I continue, and Kurt looks at me with a skeptical look.

I do think he is adorable, and the fact that he thinks he can forget lyrics, despite all the practice I know he has done – in and out of Warblers rehearsals – is kind of cute. However, now is not the time for such thoughts. We'll be on stage in a minute or two, so we have to get ready. In an attempt to pass some positive energy to him, I grab his shoulders firmly, giving them a little shake. "And, and the only people who are gonna be dying tonight are the people in that audience, because you and I are gonna kill this thing."

He still looks a little doubtful, but, averting his eyes, he replies in a low voice. "Yeah. I'm killing something tonight…"

At that moment, as if a bomb had literally just been dropped in my hands, I realize he wasn't that much worried about the performance itself. More than ever, I am sure something is up, and I am certain that he has been trying to tell me, that he wants to say something. Unusually, I can't quite understand what it might be.

"Come on, let's go." I call, before I dwell too much on the subject, knowing all-too-well that I will be talking to him about it once Regionals is over.

Before I turn, I see him breathe in deeply, right before the Warblers are announced. As we assemble on the stage, I catch sight of New Directions, and I notice that Kurt is trying to avoid looking at them. In fact, he is avoiding looking at anybody; those pretty blue-grey eyes are closed.

When the harmony starts seconds later, I am almost afraid, for a moment, that he will miss his cue. However, taking in a breath as if it were his last, Kurt starts his part.

"_The power lights went out, and I am all alone…_"

And he sounds different from all the other times I heard him sing this song. Discretely, I see Wes and a few others give me a sideways glance, knowing they are thinking the exact same. We knew he'd be better at the real thing than at rehearsal, because that is the kind of performer that Kurt is, but we didn't think that the difference would be this great. The notes he is singing sound deeper, as if there is a soul behind them, as if they are real.

I almost miss my lines, and that would have been very ironic, considering I wasn't the one worried about forgetting the lyrics. As I play my role and switch verses with Kurt, we also swap a few glances, and as we sing more of the song, I realize these lyrics are real.

This is his goodbye song to me.

**TBC**

A.N.: So I'm kinda bummed at the moment with this story, cause I can't seem to concentrate on it, but I have to write it before deadlines start jumping again. It is said that an author's mood reflects on his/her texts. I hope that isn't the case.

And now that you have your new chapter, I'm going to update myself with the newest chapters of my favorite fanfics.

Syaoran-Lover (KaiLi) signing out.


	6. Our gift

A.N.: So this is basically the end of Original Songs and the Born This Way episode mashed. That said, the rushed up week ends with this episode, finally. Our boys will get a slower pace after I finish Born This Way, which will extend a little bit more (but not much). I won't be able to watch Season 3 until January, so, whatever you guys read now and afterwards, please don't think canon (and give me a warning if you're going to write spoilers, because I won't be able to watch Season 3 until January)!

Chapter 6: Our gift

It's a good thing that I am a performer at heart. If it weren't for that, I would never have been able to finish performing "Candles" – to which there was a startling ovation after a few seconds of awed silence – and then lead "Raise your glass", especially after understanding what Kurt was conveying with that first song. I am sure he didn't want to affect me or the performance, but he has never been a good liar – at least not towards me –, and with the lyrics meaning so much to him, I'm sure he couldn't avoid singing it so realistically.

As we finish our performance, and everyone hugs him, questioning about the exceptional performance, all I want is to pull him with me into a corner and ask what exactly is happening. Before I can however, Kurt answers my own inquiries through the others'.

"Thank you. Thanks, everyone. I will forever be grateful for the faith you put in me tonight. And I am glad I was able to give it my all at this performance… my last performance with the Warblers."

All the smiles, including mine, turn into a frown. Is he going to quit the group, in order to spend less time with me, and drown his feelings? However, that certainly doesn't seem like something that Kurt would do, to quit singing.

"I am going back to McKinley on Monday or Tuesday, depending on the paperwork, and I…"

"What?"

"You can't…"

"You are what?" I shout, interrupting whatever the others were saying, not being able to contain it. I can't help it; this is the first time I'm hearing about this, and I don't want him to go away – especially not to a place where I know there is a bully ready to jump at his throat the moment he steps back there again.

Despite the stares from the others, Kurt's is the one that unsettles me the most. The way he's looking at me seems to mix sadness and determination, and I am more than a little worried. Did he decide to face Karofsky after all? Could it be that he chose to confront that feared bully everyday, because he couldn't bear our situation anymore? This might be a little egocentric, but, knowing Kurt, I am sure that I, somehow, was part of whatever decision he made.

"Could you guys give us a minute? I'll explain this later, just like I promised." He asks, his voice low, so unlike the high-pitched voice that we became used to. Maybe it was that tone, but there were only a few and unintelligible complaints as Thad, David and Wes nodded, signaling the others to follow them.

When the Warblers were far enough, and a glimpse of warmth graced his features as the countertenor looked at the group, I tried to restart the conversation. "Kurt, you can't be serious about going back there! What about Karofsky? What if he hurts you? And…"

"Blaine."He says simply, and the way he says my name alone quiets me. "Karofsky and his father called a meeting with me, my dad, Mr. Schue and Director Figgins yesterday at the school. That's why I couldn't come to rehearsal yesterday. He said he was sorry and they started an anti-bullying program of which he is one of the leaders."

"And you believe him?" I question immediately, automatically… I can't help but to be doubtful. I saw how violent this kid was and I knew how far he had pushed Kurt, until my friend found himself incapable of remaining in his own school anymore. There is no way I can simply see him off into the bully's hands with a smile on my face. "Are you serious?"

"As I'll ever be," he answers flawlessly. The way he says it with such finality is proof enough that he has thought this through, and that he has already found the answer… the answer to leave Dalton, the Warblers… and me.

"Why?" I ask, before I can even think of saying anything else. It is, however, a question I desperately need an answer to.

Kurt looks thoughtful for a moment, as if pondering what to reply. "For one thing, there's our financial situation, which really can't keep up to Dalton's expenses for longer, so going back is most convenient."

"But Karofsky…" I start, but he raises a finger and I immediately become quiet.

"He's really sorry, Blaine. Either that, or he's one hell of an actor. Besides, Santana has her finger in this, so I'm sure that, whatever she said or did, I will be alright. She may be crazy, but I know she wants me back at McKinley…"

"Do _you_ want to go back, Kurt?" I ask, not able to hold it back, and emphasizing that I wanted to know his thoughts. I need to know what he _feels_, not what is convenient for him.

My friend takes a deep breath before replying. "You _know_ I never wanted to leave, Blaine."

"But you're happy here! We could find some way over the financial part! We could request a scholarship! Heck, with the way you sang today, I'm sure we could get Dalton to dismiss your expenses if you apply to the special Warbler scholarship! I'm sure we have something like that!" My voice raises a little, though I barely notice. My focus is clearly in getting him to stay.

Kurt smiles a bit this time, and I curiously find myself slightly calmer when I see it. "They do, I've looked it up. But there's no sense in offering it to me, Blaine. I like Dalton, and the Warblers, but I want to go back to my school. I just can't…" he hesitates, but continues, "I can't stay here anymore."

I'm not sure what to make of that, but a foreboding sense of dread starts to consume me as it becomes clearer every second: I'm going to lose him. Of course, we'll still be friends, even if he does go back to McKinley, but we won't have as much time together, especially living in different cities, however close they may be.

There is only one thing that I can think of to convince him otherwise, so I all but beg. "Kurt, please." I grab his attention, his eyes focusing on mine. "Stay." I whisper.

His brow furrows. "I'm not a dog, Blaine, however much you might think it."

Surprise takes me over. Is that what he thinks I think of him? "I don't…"

"I know, I'm sorry." He interrupts me again. Apparently, I'm getting no say whatsoever in this whole conversation, though I do notice that his expression is different from the one he portrayed five seconds ago. "That was my frustration building up."

A tense silence follows as neither of us knows what to say… that is, until I realize that I just need to say what I really feel about it. And I do. "I don't want you to go, Kurt." I whisper, my voice rasp and my arms opening up, beckoning him into a hug.

He smiles at me and steps into them, permitting the embrace, and pressing his face against one of my shoulders. "I know, but…"

"But?" I ask automatically, yet again. My instincts are apparently taking charge of my actions.

Kurt, however, doesn't answer. He just holds me a little tighter, something he's never done before. Seconds later, just as I think about prodding him for the answer, his voice echoes in my ears, the words they carry nearly shattering my heart.

"There's nothing keeping me here."

**~!GLEE!~**

Though Kurt's choice of words had almost plucked my soul right out of my living body, I understand why he made such a decision. Although I'm still against it, I can't help but to feel a little jealous at the sparkle I saw in his eyes when he talked about going back, even if it warred against the sadness at leaving us.

However, I don't want him to go without something to remember his time here, so I called an urgent meeting as soon as he turned his back. Because everyone returns to Dalton together, it isn't so difficult to reunite all the members, minus one, especially when the latter is so distracted, he doesn't notice so many of his fellow singers checking their mobile phones for the message I texted.

A normal Kurt would definitely not have let that slide.

"Attention, Warblers!" I call, and, promptly, Wes bangs his gavel to demand silence. Immediately all the other voices become quiet, as all pairs of eyes land on me. "I'd like to propose a present to Kurt, who did his best for us, even though he was competing against the very friends he wants so desperately to go back to. To Kurt, who could have left us before Regionals, but didn't... That alone shows character and responsibility towards the Warblers."

Many heads nod, some of the teens crossing knowing looks of approval. They had come to like Kurt, though a few members of the group had taken some time to get used to the countertenor's sarcasm and smart comebacks.

Of course, no one will miss him as much as I will.

"So, what exactly do you have in mind?" David asks with a knowing look.

Of course, they all suspect we'll be singing, and not just because we're an acapella group. We all know Kurt loves singing, and that he also loves being sung to, however few times it happened to him. Such information plays a huge part in this decision. "I want to sing him a goodbye song... Something he can't forget, so that he doesn't forget us."

"Us, or you?" Wes asks, and at least three fifths of the boys nod their heads or smile.

"Us." I repeat firmly, but I know I don't want him to forget me, specifically.

Thad and Wes shake their heads, and I can tell from the look the latter is giving me that he disagrees with something – whatever it is.

"Have you thought of a song in particular?" Jeff, surprisingly, is the one to interrupt the silence. Usually he prefers not to call attention to himself right after soundless moments.

"Is there any special song we can sing?" John asks. Despite his burly appearance, the big guy is one of the sweetest people I know, and he was also one of the first to accept Kurt. My friend considers our beatbox one of the Warblers he is closest to, Jeff being the first – mainly because the blond and him had almost all of their classes together.

I nod, a little uncertain, but soon reply. "Somewhere only we know."

I hear a few hushed voices, but not a word I can understand.

"Blaine," Wes calls, after a minute or two, and I look at him. "What's your intention with this song? It has tremendously profound lyrics to both of you, I am sure."

There's no denying that. "Like I said, I want Kurt to remember this," I explain, holding out my arms, as if trying to embrace the room. "Dalton, the Warblers. I want him to remember everything he experienced while he was here."

"Like the kiss?" Thad asks, with a raised eyebrow, and I immediately freeze.

Do they know?

"What kiss?" I ask, already afraid of the answer.

"Between you two, here." The council member presses on, but thanks to that last word, I recognize the trap he was trying to pull me into.

"There was no kiss. End of story. I'm doing this because Kurt is my friend and he has been through a lot. Despite that, he still did his best within our group, so I do think it is appropriate to give him some sort of gift. Considering he loves music, I thought singing would be our best shot. That's it." I explain with certainty.

The Council members shake their heads and I see some of the boys mimicking the action. For a moment, I actually think they will reject the idea. Almost a minute later, Wes bangs his gavel and calls for a vote on the subject.

**~!GLEE!~**

"Blaine, really, I wish you would stop making us sing in places where we may be murdered in public, or something worse. These kids look like they'll strangle us the second we pull out a note!" Nick complained, looking almost schizophrenically amongst the passing students.

"And stop trying to woo your boyfriends in public with us in tow! It's totally embarrassing!" Cameron added, but meaning it only half-heartedly.

I roll my eyes, but don't bother to reply. Since my idea was approved, unanimously – by the way –, I have denied so many times that Kurt and I are _not_ an item, that I decided to stop doing it. Obviously, no one is listening when I say that, so there really is no sense in continuing to waste my time denying.

"Don't worry, Nick. Kurt said they're not allowed to bully anymore, so there is no need to be scared! Now, calm yourself before you give away our surprise!" I all but shout, hoping we wouldn't be seen or heard before our cue.

David steps in, acting as a human barrier between Nick and the colorful students of McKinley High. While the younger boy seems to be soothed somewhat with that, I receive a message, silencing the Warblers. A few minutes later, we can see, almost on the opposite side, that the incomplete New Directions has gathered, and Mercedes starts speaking to them. Soon enough, just as we knew that she and Kurt had planned, our friend is coming down the stairs.

Seconds later, so are we.

**TBC**

A.N.: We're halfway through, I believe. Shouldn't be so difficult. Please remember to review, and please, please don't mention Season 3! Please!

My internet is sulky today. Hope I can get it back to normal soon.

Syaoran-Lover (KaiLi) signing out.


	7. His return

A.N.: Short, but it's a bridge to the crossroad chapter that is the next one, which is almost ready.

Chapter 7: His return

Kurt is brought to tears by our rendition of "Somewhere only we know" at his school. He obviously hadn't expected anything from us, and, even less, something like this. So, as we come out, on Mercedes' cue, and start singing to him, those blue-green eyes start watering. By the time we finish, they have become dripping hoses.

And it was all I could do not to cry too, especially when, at the last verse, he pulled me in for a hug that, clearly, meant much more than a goodbye. It was a promise of friendship, a promise of no goodbyes between us. Despite the fact that Kurt had embraced some of the Warblers, as we filed beside him at the end of the song, clearly it was ours that lasted the most, and, possibly, it was the most meaningful too.

As we pull apart, and he looks into my eyes, I know he is searching for some reassurance, trying to make sure that he isn't reading too much. I stand there, calmly, as patiently and as openly as I can, desperate to convey to him that he can trust me. So I say it. "Kurt, we're still friends. No matter what happens."

I hear a short intake of breath around me, and realize that, suddenly, some of the New Directions girls are looking a little strange at me. I'd dare to say they're looking furiously, but it is too short-lived, because, after inhaling just as loud as they had, my friend smiles brightly at me. "I know," he replies.

I can't shake the idea that he sounds slightly disappointed, but, when he takes one of my hands in both of his, I instantly forget it. Kurt then turns to look at the group. "Thank you so, so, so much. I… I never thought you all cared so much."

Wes is the first to come closer when he sees the ex-Dalton student is now looking down again, as if ashamed to look at the group he belonged to not a week before. "Kurt," he calls, and I resist the urge to wince when the countertenor looks up too nervously. However, unfazed, our Council President simply lays a hand on the pale boy's shoulder, as if to shoo anything that might plague the younger singer. "You will always have a place amongst the Warblers. You will _always_ be one of us."

I can't fight the happiness I feel as Wes manages to say the exact words that make Kurt start crying again. My friend is strong, I know that more than anyone else does, and I know he is not what people call a crybaby. Today, however, we seem to be hitting all the right buttons to make him do just that.

Maybe because she's also come to the same conclusion, Mercedes pulls him into a tight hug against her chest, and, surprisingly, he allows the contact, nestling himself there as he freely permits those salty drips to fall. I can tell that some of the heterosexual boys are quite envious as they watch the scene.

After a few more minutes, the small crowd that had gathered during our performance already breaking off, Kurt finally manages to pull himself together, gently pulling away from his friend, who casually lets her arms unfold from his figure. He sniffs the last trails of tears away and, with a very vulnerable, yet sincere expression, he addresses the group. "I can't thank you enough – not only for this amazing show, but for supporting me, for being my friends… For…" he trails off, a little insecure before he resumes the sentence, "for having my back."

The Warblers smile and cheer, but Kurt is not done yet. He looks at the New Directions members, as if they could somehow speak wordlessly, but Mercedes seems to understand what he wants. The dark-skinned girl nods and says, "Go ahead."

Before we can ask anything, Kurt has started speaking again, his yes looking at us intensely. "Please, come to our school again next Tuesday." When it is obvious that none of us understand why he is asking that, he elaborates a little more. "Tuesday is Glee club day, and since I am considered a new student, I have to audition to rejoin the club."

Perhaps this is news to the other members, because some of them start complaining. I can identify at least Rachel, Finn, Quin and Tina doing so.

"_You_ don't need to, Kurt!" Quinn says, and she emphasizes that by looking at him pointedly. "We know you're capable."

"Yes," Rachel chimes in, "I, of all people, recognize your talent. You don't need to audition."

"Bro," Finn complements the girls, "you've always been one of us. You don't have to ask to come back to the team. You never left."

"I know," my friend whispers softly, and we know he is not just saying it. He _knows_ what they say is true. "But I want to. I really do… and I want the Warblers to be there when I do just that."

We all look at each other, both show choir groups, but we all know the answer.

"We'll be there." David answers with a smile. "Definitely."

**~!GLEE!~**

We park our cars in front of McKinley, one third of us catching a ride to lessen the amount of cars making the short Westerville – Lima trip. As we all assemble together, Finn and Quinn come out of the building to meet us, shaking our hands and looking genuinely happy with our presence.

As they lead us inside, a lot of the Warblers have the opportunity to take a better look at the school, most of them having never set foot inside a public one before – unless they counted the patio stairs where we performed for Kurt at the beginning of the week. Cameron and John even ventured some questions, which Quinn readily answered, while Finn pointed some rooms, giving us a general and brief tour.

I didn't pay much attention, as I had been here before and Kurt had slowly walked me through these hallways, with at least one story for every corner. So I let my mind wander off as we walk to the auditorium, thinking about how much I had missed my best friend. It had been only three days and a half, and I was already feeling the weight of a life without the countertenor in it.

The first day had seemed to drag on forever, and it seemed like a lifetime until morning classes were over and we hurriedly drove off to perform here. I had already felt then what the rest of my school life was going to feel like without Kurt, and, wow, did it suck. I can hardly imagine getting through it, but I know I'll have to. I can only hope that, as time does to all things, it will ease this emptiness that I feel, maybe even nullify it, eventually. If it doesn't, I'm doomed to flunk at least half my subjects, out of boredom. I don't know how I got by before I met him, but, apparently, now I can't go on without him. As pathetic as it sounded, the thought pretty much summarized what I had felt all week… and as I was already feeling that on Monday, when Kurt invited us here to watch his audition, I jumped for joy at the chance to come see him again.

"We're here." Finn announces. "Welcome to the choir room."

Looking around, I am genuinely surprised at the lack of things for a Kurt Hummel performance. I was so sure my friend would go all out, using all the props and costumes he could find, and all the space their auditorium could offer. Curiously, I observe as the Warblers look around, completely surprised at the small room, especially when compared to Dalton's huge and richly furnitured choir room. Wisely, most of them decide to remain silent.

The place has more chairs than I remember, therefore seeming smaller than it really is. Many of the New Directions group are already seated, but, though all of them smile at us, and some even wave, Rachel is the only who gets up.

With an enormous smile on her face, she walks to me and gives me a generous hug, which I awkwardly return. "Hello, Blaine," the girl says, "I'm so happy you could make it. He's been looking forward to this all week."

"So have I." I reply without thinking, but it is true, none-the-less.

The brunette blinks, but decides no to comment, and then indicates towards the chairs. "Please, take a chair."

She pulls my arm and seats me beside her. As the Warblers sit down rather noisily, Rachel leans towards me and whispers, her voice carried with a completely different tone than her usual confident one. "Blaine, we dated briefly and I consider you a friend. So, tell me, what do you think of my nose?"

I am totally astonished by the question. Really, this group never ceases to amaze. If I lived a thousand young years and so did they, it would probably not be enough to end the surprises. Where did this come from? And what did she expect me to say? I hesitate to answer, but figure it's best to be honest. "I'm not sure I understand your question, Rachel."

Not that I was ever one for lying, anyway.

Not fazed in the least, and true to her character, the girl answers with her signature bluntness. "What do you think about me getting a nose job?"

I'm rendered speechless yet again. She's thinking of getting a nose job? And why is she asking me? We've gone out, and kissed, and even tried romantic dates, but, surely, that's not enough to make me someone ideal to consult with.

Before I am forced to answer, however, Kurt walks through the doorway, looking fantastic as always and happier than I remember seeing him. Most of us get up to greet him, hugging him and commenting on how great he looks.

"Damn, Hummel, you make me wish I was gay." That particular phrase was uttered by none other than Trent, which earned him the stares of most of the people in the room.

Kurt, however, smirks. "I'd be happy to help you deviate your path." The countertenor replies, a hint of mock flirtation, to which most of us laugh, although I don't find it as amusing as everyone seems to.

"If it's you, I might think about it," the Warbler says, this time succeeding in making our friend blush.

A few minutes later, Mr. Schuester finally arrives and signals everyone to sit down. When we do, he immediately launches into a speech. "Hello, Warblers. Welcome again to our McKinley High School. I trust that New Directions has treated you well?" He asks, to which most of us nod. "Great, because you took such good care of Kurt, we are more than happy to return the favor anytime you decide to come…"

"As long as there is no spying involved!" Rachel interrupts.

Many New Directions members look at her with exasperation, but the Warblers laugh heartily. After all, the first time Kurt came to us, he was an endearing yet not-so-undercover spy.

"… And we'll be glad to extend the same hospitality. Kurt, the floor is yours." The Spanish teacher says, hastily ending any further comments. A very smart move, in my opinion.

The countertenor gets up and, after brushing his clothes with his hands, walks to the front of the room and turns to stand before the piano. I barely register the blonde man that is sitting there, quietly waiting for his cue.

"Fellow singers, I'd like to start by explaining my choice of stage. As you know, this is our choir room, the place that holds so many memories and performances of this Glee Club. However, it is also the place where I said goodbye. This is the place that had me thinking so many 'what if's'. Therefore, it is also where I decided to audition." He says, blue irises clearer than ever.

I see some of the New Directions members nodding their heads, and Mercedes may even be dropping a tear, if my eyes are not playing tricks on me.

Apparently unperturbed, Kurt continues after a few seconds. "This song summarizes my thoughts, and it speaks for itself." Turning to the pianist, he nods.

The first notes start to play, and the melody immediately fills my body. It is beautiful enough, played by the violins, the piano and the other instruments, but, when Kurt starts singing seconds later, completely dominating the song's atmosphere and all of its notes, we are rendered breathless.

Not just New Directions, but, especially, the Warblers as well.

His beautiful voice rises for the high notes and instantly drops for the low ones with every beat. The way he sings it seems to fill our souls, and many people in this small audience have already closed their eyes, sinking into the feeling. The small movements he makes – that he never dared to make while performing with us –, they tell many tales about him. With every minute that passes as the countertenor performs, we can read his body language as clear as an illuminated sign…

He had never been at ease with the Warblers, and, maybe, he never would have felt so, regardless of how much we treated him as an equal. However, for him, Dalton's equality translated into losing his individuality, into trying to blend with the others, into becoming another blazer-clad student. For Kurt, our school may have given him safety, while taking away his freedom.

We finally understand the differences as we watch him sing with all the emotions he has been bottling up for months… The countertenor was a prisoner within shiny corridors, but a prisoner none-the-less.

But now, he's back at McKinley, where there aren't rules to pull him down.

He is finally home.

**TBC**

A.N.: Before anyone asks, no, I'm not a fan of Rachel, but I ship Hummel-Berry as good friends. However, I will probably never forgive Rachel for BIOTA (I kinda understand her reasoning, though I do NOT understand her honor over there, and even less what she understands to be the concept of "friends"). Nevertheless, that doesn't mean she can't be nice in my fics. LOL

Next chapter is probably short, but most definitely an important one.

Thanks for the reviews, the alerts, favorites and all that jazz. It's so delightful to open the email inbox and find one or two reviews have been left. Many thanks to the readers who did.

By the way, I have a proposal. If I get twenty-five reviews for this chapter (considering it has around 50 subscribers, that shouldn't be too hard), chapter 8 will be up by the middle of June, at the most. If I get more than that, it will be up in a week! XD

Thank you everyone.

Syaoran-Lover signing out!


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